


Some footprints never fade.

by millygal



Series: Season 13 [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Perspective, Gen, Post-Series, Season Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Planes crash every day, don't they?





	Some footprints never fade.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been itching to try this since the end of season 12 but I wasn't sure how to go about it. It's taken two days and a complete re-write but I finally have what I want, even though it's *still* not what I first saw in my head. Thank you to jj1564 for her beta skills and basically telling me this didn't suck out loud.

_** 2005 ** _

She’s beautiful - her boyfriend makes sure to tell her so _every_ day. She’s intelligent and classy, talented, and she’s owning Stanford, and yet, she’s bored.

Jess has herself a gorgeous guy who makes her laugh like she’s never laughed before, with beautiful dark skin, kind eyes and arms that feel safe and strong, but she’s so hemmed in.

Itchy.

Fidgetty.

She doesn’t know why, but maybe a change in scenery will help, so she throws clothes into a duffle and leaves a note on the dresser saying she’ll be back in a few days.

She has no idea that in another life, she’s already dead.

Humming some unnamed Led Zeppelin tune as she slams her apartment door, Jess doesn’t realise she’s nothing more than a treasured and painful memory for a man who never thought he was good enough for her.

~~~~~~~~~

Ben screams.

And _screams_.

And **screams**.

Burly orderlies barrel into the room armed with hypodermics and grim expressions, and Ben wishes that **thing** had eaten him too.

As darkness descends and crowds out the hallucinations of his sister asking him to join her, Ben thinks if someone had been there to stop Haley, he wouldn’t be facing a lifetime of padded walls and drool stains on his t-shirt.

~~~~~~~~~

High above the clouds, a plane pitches from the sky, streaming smoke and sparks and if you listen really carefully you’ll hear  the screams of those falling to a messy, painful, inevitable death.

That evening’s news report speaks of human error and black box recordings, and the people of America will think twice about booking their holidays this year.

~~~~~~~~~

Three officers attending this particular scene have never witnessed such violence.

They’ve all been walking this beat for a very long time, but tonight’s tableau will stay with them for years.

This much blood will never wash clean, they’ll have to burn their uniforms.

Zak pleads innocence from behind iron bars, screams until his voice disappears, but no one listens.

He’s a serial killer, after all.

~~~~~~~~~

The realtor side eyes his potential commission and wonders if he’ll get in trouble for not disclosing. Finally he decides it’s best to be honest, even if it might send Mr and Mrs White-Picket-Fence running from the room.

“There are a few things you should know about the house - The mother and son who lived here, they, well they died. It was a real tragedy, but it would be such a _shame_ for the house to sit empty.”

Pat and Gene look at each other for a moment, nod, and smile. “We don’t believe in all that hooey - we’ll take it.”

_** 2010 ** _

A lazy wind runs right through Jake as he stands off to one side, waiting dutifully for his master and commander to deliver the deathblow.

Filtering through the gravestones, carried along with the dust, debris and droplets of blood staining his shirt, Jake can hear the faint strains of a long forgotten Def Leppard tune.

Tapping his foot and humming, Jake watches the creature he’s come to think of as his _father_ put his fist straight through another guy’s chest, and he knows in that moment, everything’s changing.

Long live the Morning Star.

_** 2017 ** _

Death and destruction was _meant_ to be **enjoyable**.

Breaking all of Papa’s toys seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now, sitting in a dank dirty cave with only the corpses of his lieutenants for company, Lucifer can feel something nagging - poking and picking and niggling - at the very back of his mind.

Tugging on him like a toddler begging for sweets.

“Someone’s coming, someone **fun**. Finally.”

 

Fin.


End file.
